


what a feeling to be a king beside you

by saphinias



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ADHD, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Nogitsune Trauma, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Nogitsune, Protective Derek, Scent Marking, Sleeping Together, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphinias/pseuds/saphinias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's what Derek knows: Stiles Stilinski smells like sunshine and dandelions.  He feels like home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sunshine and dandelions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> So in the past month I've watched four seasons of Teen Wolf and have taken way too many notes about Derek and Stiles. This is the culmination of my holiday break - and it's sure to be multiple chapters. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> The title is from What A Feeling by One Direction.

Derek doesn’t remember realizing that Stiles was his mate.  It doesn’t happen like that, Derek knew that much.  He did remember thinking that Stiles smelled uncommonly good.  He smelled fresh and earthy.  It was hard to put names to scents, but if he had to, he would say Stiles smelled of sunshine and dandelions.  It reminded him of his childhood, of his lost pack.  It was a settling scent to be around.  He’s known that for a long time, since he first rode in the jeep, probably.  But having a nice scent doesn’t automatically make you mate material.  Like he said, that’s not how it works.

It’s more complicated than that.

There is no defining moment where the realization strikes and suddenly you’re in love.  That would be foolish.  No, the mate bond develops over time.  It depends on the actions of the people involved.  Should both trust unconditionally early on in the relationship, or if they should trust each other with no ulterior motives, for example, that would begin to build a mate bond.  But those are just two examples, the actual possibilities are endless.  

There are as many ways to break the burgeoning bond as there are to build it.  Betrayal is a big one.  The stronger the bond, though, the more it will withstand.  Just like with everyday relationships, it’s about give and take.

Derek supposes that there was a lot of building and breaking in the first year he knew Stiles.  He can only assume his joining Peter for that little while snapped it completely, but their two hour stint in the pool the following semester rebuilt the tatters that were left.

The stronger the bond gets, the more physical the manifestation of the trust and eventual affection.  Fully bonded mates have trouble when they are separated for extended periods of time.  Their bodies begin to literally ache with the loss of their mate, or so he’d been told.  His parents had been fully bonded, but they had never spent enough time apart for Derek to witness that particular aspect of the bond.

So Derek never had an ‘ah ha!’ moment and realized that Stiles was his mate.  But, since he was a werewolf, when the bond became strong enough, he could feel it.  It drew him to Stiles, urging him to build on what they had.  Unless he was with Stiles it was a faint hum in his periphery, a metaphorical itch that he wasn’t scratching.  When he was with Stiles, it was pleasantly quiet and soothing.  His scent was enough, most of the time.  If it had been a particularly long time since he’d last seen him or Stiles was in danger or injured, Derek was drawn to touch him.  To make sure that he was okay and real and there.

But Stiles was human.  And for all Derek knew about mates and their bonds, he didn’t know how it affected humans.  His mother and father had both been born wolves, so he never experienced any mate bonding with humans.  

Derek had known for a long time now that he and Stiles shared a mate bond.  It thrummed through his very being and it was growing increasingly hard to ignore.

Others have correctly made the observation and asked if he knew.  Others being Peter and Cora and Naomi.  He’d just scowled at them all when they’d asked.  Of course he knew, how could he not?  He wasn’t that emotionally stunted, and it was frankly insulting that they thought that lowly of him.  Naomi had dropped the subject, but neither Peter nor Cora had.

Peter, unsurprisingly, made constant, disgusting innuendos.  Cora nagged him to talk to Stiles about it constantly.

“Won’t it start hurting, at some point?  Like, actually cause you pain?” Cora exclaims when he refuses, yet again, to talk to Stiles about it.

Derek glared at her, “No.  If I don’t talk to him about it, I doubt it will progress that far.”

“That’s idiotic.”

They have that same conversation over and over again, with the same result every time.

The thing is, the person he’s building a mate bond with is just a kid.  When the bond became strong enough for Derek to notice, he was only seventeen.  He’s closer to eighteen now, but he’s still just a kid.  Derek won’t tell him about it, at least not until he’s eighteen.  He couldn’t take advantage like that.  Not after what had happened to Derek.

For now, it was good.  Derek spoke to him often.  Stiles was often in danger or injured, but for the most part Derek seemed to be in danger and getting injured at the same time.  Stiles allowed him to touch him during these times.  A hand on a shoulder, arms knocking together, or every so often his hand cupping the back of Stiles’ neck.  Derek didn’t do it a lot, knew scent-marking someone without them knowing the significance of the action or having permission was wrong.  He did it only when he knew Stiles had been legitimately close to death, so he forgave himself.  

Maybe one day he would get permission, but for now it was good.


	2. significance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little snippet about scent marking because I'm obsessed, apparently.

Derek knows that Stiles isn’t stupid.  Of course he would realize the pattern in which Derek touches him.  Which brings him to his current predicament, sat on Stiles’ couch while Stiles’ himself paced back and forth in front of him.

“Okay so it occurred to me the other day that you don’t touch a lot of people.  Barring if they're in like, mortal peril, or something,” he paused to side-eye him, “-even then.  But you touch me.  Which used to be in the scary, I’m-gonna-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teeth sort of way.  But it’s not now, is it?”  Derek opens his mouth - to say what, he doesn’t know - but Stiles stops him,” No, no, that was a rhetorical question.  Of course you don’t want to rip my throat out anymore.  We’ve moved beyond that.  I’m cool with casual touches, dude, that’s fine, that’s not what this is about.”  Stiles moves to stand in front of Derek and reaches behind him to cup his neck.  Derek’s mouth drops open a little, and something like a shiver runs down his spine at the touch.  “ _T_ _his_ is what this is about.  What is this?  This isn’t a usual casual touch.  What does it mean?”

Derek places his hand over Stiles’.  Decides not to fight it, to just answer.  “It’s scent-marking.”

Stiles removes his hand and makes the squinty-eyed face.  The one where his mouth is pursed in an ‘o’ shape.  “ _Why?_ ”

“Um.  Why what?”  Derek is finding it hard to meet Stiles’ eyes.

“Why scent mark me?  I’m not pack.”

Derek gets all blustery for a minute, and after that he gapes at the boy above him.  “Of course you’re pack!  You _know_ humans can be pack.  I like you a lot better than Scott, and he’s pack.  Why wouldn’t you be?”

Stiles shrugged and plopped down on the couch beside him.  “I dunno.  I just - nevermind.”  They sat in silence for a minute or two before Stiles spoke up again, “What’s the significance?”

Derek looked down at his hands.  Picked at one of his nails.  Tried to think of the rights words, how to string them together correctly.  “When I do it to you, it’s because you were in danger, and I just.  It just makes me feel better to touch you, like make sure you’re okay.  Especially there.  Because that spot has significance.  For werewolves, at least.”

When Derek chanced looking back up at him, Stiles was nodding like he was processing the information.  “Okay, so is it like a thing you should’ve asked me before you did it?  Because it would have been nice to know that I was pack, so I could figure out this whole werewolf etiquette pack stuff.”

Derek shifts uncomfortably.  “I - yeah.  Yeah, I should have asked.  Sorry.”

Stiles surprises him by clapping him on the back, “It’s alright dude, I know you have a hard time using your words.  But like, you should try.  Because to me, scent marking someone seems kinda intimate, you know?  For future reference.”  Derek nods solemnly and Stiles laughs.  “Okay, sourwolf, Scott and I are studying tonight,  so it’s time for you to go.  Thanks for stopping by and clearing this up with me.”

As Derek opens the door, Stiles calls out.

“Hey, Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I smell different after you scent mark me?”

Derek feels incredibly fortunate that he is facing away from Stiles in that instance, because he knows his blush is way too noticeable and non-platonic.

“Yeah.”

“Hm, cool.  Anyway, see you later, dude.”

God help him.


	3. sleep and bunny teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a whole lot of fluff before shit hit the fan in Stiles' junior year.

Derek has gone over it a lot in his head, and he thinks what really starting building the bond in earnest was the summer after Stiles’ sophomore year of high school.  He had just got the shit beaten out of him by Gerard, back when Gerard was in a position to beat the shit out of teenage boys.  Derek knew the Argents - the crazier ones, at least - better than he’d like.  So when he found out that Stiles had been hurt from an errant comment Scott made, he may have freaked out a little.

“What?  Stiles was hurt?  How bad?” Derek interrupted whatever he’d been babbling about.

“He’s fine, dude.  Just a few scrapes and bruises.  Are you _worried_?” Scott grinned at him, as if having him having feelings was some kind of novelty.  Derek just shoved him and Scott continued babbling.

Derek knew, he _knew_ , that it couldn’t possibly be just a few scrapes and bruises.  When the Argents wanted to send a message, they wanted it sent loud and clear.

As soon as Scott had cleared out, Derek drove over to Stiles’.  In a stroke of good luck, the Sheriff wasn’t home.  He knocked on the front door instead of climbing in through his window, mostly because he knew that Stiles would think it was funny - and also probably appreciate it.

True to form, Stiles open the door and his eyebrows immediately shot up.  He leaned on the doorframe, “Well, well.  Look who knows how to use a door.  Who would’ve thought?”

Derek just glared at him.  He saw the scrapes on his face and he could smell his pain.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “What’s up?  Is there an emergency or something?  Are you a fugitive again?”

“That was _Scott’s fault_ ,” Derek grumbled, before straightening up and looking him in the eye.  “I know you’re hurt.”

“Dude,” Stiles points to his face, “does the face not give it away immediately?”

“Stiles.”

And he must really be struggling because that’s all it takes.  “Why are you here?”

“I can make it better.”

And so he did.  He wrapped a hand around Stiles’ arm and leeched the pain away.  He didn’t hold back and Stiles seemed to go a bit loopy from relief.  

“Can you - I mean, I haven’t slept really well for a few days - can you just, like, stay while I sleep?  Or until I fall asleep?”

Derek just nodded, and slipped his hands down until it was wrapped around Stiles’ hand.  He nodded his head for Stiles to lead the way, and they walked up to his bedroom.  Derek pulled the office chair over and Stiles got under the covers.  Derek got a hand on him and Stiles sighed.

“Thank you.”

That’s how they first started really talking.

The third night this happened, as Derek was pulling the office chair over to his spot beside the bed, Stiles stopped him.  “You can sleep on the bed, too.  It’s the least I can do, for making you come over here every night and take my pain.”

Derek hesitated.  Stiles pulled the covers back and then pulled Derek down with him.  They didn’t touch, except for Derek’s hand on Stiles’ forearm.  Derek didn’t have any nightmares that night.

The next few times he came over earlier and earlier in the evening.  They ended up playing video games.  As it turned out, Derek was extraordinarily bad at video games.

“Dude, don’t you have super extra werewolfy powers now that you’re an alpha?” Stiles teased and laughed.

“Shut up,” Derek muttered darkly, through the beginning of a smile.

When he finally won, he grinned and whooped.  It felt alien, this kind of happiness.  Stiles wasn’t even mad, he just grinned right back and stared at him.

“What?” Derek asked.

“Dude, you have dimples, that’s adorable,” Stiles said, and did that lopsided grin.

Derek rolled his eyes, “You think I’m _adorable_?”  The connotation was clear:  _me, alpha werewolf, adorable?_

“Yeah, with your dimples and your bunny teeth.  I don’t know how I was ever scared of you, honestly,” Stiles shrugged, but he was still smiling.

“I do not have bunny teeth.”

“Okay, bunny.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Stiles just responded by poking his fingers into the places where his dimples would be, until he’s laughing and his fingers are poking into his dimples.

“C’mon sourwolf, let’s go to bed.”

Stiles crawled over to turn the Xbox off and heaved himself off the floor.  He held a hand out to help him up, which Derek took.  They assumed their usual positions - Stiles on the right, Derek on the left, their hands meeting in the middle.

Except that night Derek woke up to Stiles wiggling closer to him.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re warm.  Don’t stop touching me.”

Derek knew what he meant, but his flushed cheeks apparently didn’t.  Still, Derek wrapped an arm around him so he could leech his pain comfortably.  And he had thought a few nights ago was the best sleep he’d ever gotten.


	4. disbelievers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a title graphic that I made to the first chapter if you wanna go check that out. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Derek has learned a lot about Stiles in the years he’s known him.  

At first it was superficial things.  He was able to pick his scent out of a crowd, and eventually his heartbeat.  He could tell you where each mole on his face and hands was.  He knew they were the same height, though it didn’t always feel that way.  He knew his eyes could be the most interesting shades of brown, knew that they were whiskey in fluorescents and honey when the morning light hit his face.  He knew exactly where his blush landed on his cheeks.

A bit later he learned about his disorders.  ADHD and anxiety.  Once he’d learned of them he understood Stiles and why he did the things he did far more.  He understood why he stayed up all night researching werewolves.  He understood why it seemed like he never stopped talking.  The patterns, or lack thereof, of his thoughts suddenly became so much clearer.  Suddenly something clicked and Derek became one of the people who could decipher Stiles, could see where he was headed with something or what he was hinting at, even as he jumped to another point or an entirely new subject.  He loved how each thing Stiles mentioned all gathered at a central point, like he was weaving words.

The more he paid attention to the way Stiles thought and spoke, the more he appreciated it.  He was incredibly intelligent and able to connect bits of information almost effortlessly.  There were so many times that the group of them would have been so lost without Stiles and his magnificent brain.  And yet, the more he noticed it the more it became clear to him that something was wrong.

One late night stakeout conversation in the Camaro had Stiles inexplicably mentioning his mom.  Stiles had never mentioned her before, at least not to him or to anybody else that he’d overheard.  And they had been quiet.  It was kind of nice, silence with Stiles.  He liked the all the questions Stiles asked him and the crazy theories he’d talk about and the stories he’d tell.  Hell, he even liked arguing with him.  But silence felt special with Stiles.  And then, out of nowhere, Stiles had said,  _ I can’t believe this is my life now.  I feel like, the crazier my life gets, the farther I get from my mom. _  Derek hadn’t known what to say.  It was quiet for a few minutes while he’d thought of an appropriate response.  In the end, he had settled on:  _ Me, too _ .

It became increasingly clear after that that Stiles blamed himself for his mother’s death.  It was a combination of looks his friends gave him when he talked about his mom and comments similar to the one made at the stakeout.  Derek sometimes wanted to ask what had happened, but didn’t really want to push.  He didn’t want anyone to ask about his family, so he didn’t ask about Stiles’.

Derek also got the feeling that Stiles believed he was a burden to his father because of his ADHD.  Which.  Derek hated that.  Without Stiles and his ADHD they’d probably all be dead.  And he saw the way the sheriff looked at his son and talked about him.  It was so clear that being burdensome was so far removed from the list of adjectives that the sheriff used for his son.  Derek didn’t understand what it was that made Stiles believe that, and he hoped all the time that he was simply reading the situation wrong, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he was.

He’d seen Stiles have a panic attack, once.  It was the summer after the nogitsune possession.  Neither of them were really in their right minds.  They’d both go about during the day pretending everything was fine, but during the nights they would try and hold each other together.  It was the middle of the night and they were wrapped around each other and he’d woken up to Stiles screaming.  It wasn’t the first time it had happened, though, so he shook him awake.  But this time, he had a hard time coming back to reality.  Derek heard his heartbeat pick up dramatically and it felt like he wasn’t breathing and Derek had had no idea what to do.  The sheriff wasn’t home, wouldn’t be home until the next morning or he would have already yelled for him.

“Stiles?  Stiles, are you okay?” Derek sat him up and Stiles scrambled out of his grip and stumbled out of bed.  Derek didn’t know what to do, watched Stiles stagger around the room and he still wasn’t breathing correctly.  He grabbed him and made him look into his eyes.  “Stiles.  This is real.  Do you understand?  This is real.  Breathe, please breathe.”

And Derek could tell that he was trying, he was  _ trying  _ to breathe so he held up his hand so Stiles could see.  

“Look, five fingers, right?  Look, one, breathe in,” Derek took a deep lungful and hoped that Stiles’ body could calm down enough to do the same.  “Two, breathe out.”  He went on, lowering each finger as it was counted and slowly breathing in and out.  They stood and breathed together for a minute or two until the panic had passed.  Derek gathered him up in his arms and cupped his hand over the nape of Stiles’ neck.  Stiles copied his movement and Derek instantly felt more settled, less like he was rattling out of his bones worrying for this boy.

“I don’t know what’s real.  I don’t know if I ever will.”  He whispered these words into the crook of Derek’s neck.  “I’m scared.”

Derek pressed around him tighter.  “This is real.  I am real.  You are real.”

“That’s just what something that’s not real would say.  I’ll never know for sure.”

“I know.”  There was nothing else to say.  Derek guided them back to the bed.  Covered them up.  Held him.  There was nothing else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think next up (or soon up) will be an entire chapter dedicated to the summer after the nogitsune possession. So look forward to that!


	5. tonight i need you to stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I skipped class and read one of your comments, and through the magic combination of inspiration and raspberry hot chocolate this chapter was born. As promised, this is the summer after the nogitsune possession.
> 
> I recommend The Run and Go by Twenty One Pilots to accompany this chapter.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support!

Derek doesn’t want to dump his shit on Stiles.  He really, really doesn’t.  Knows Stiles is dealing with so much of his own shit he’s drowning in it.  But.

But the thing is he knows Stiles _could_ help and _would_ help if he asked.  That was his gift.

Maybe they could help each other.

 

-

 

Stiles remembers last summer.  He knows Derek would help.  But he just wants to pretend to be okay again and asking Derek for help would be the worst.  It would be admitting to being defeated.  To drowning.  Again.

(And God he’d thought last summer was as bad as it got.  He wishes he could turn back time when the worst thing that was happening was getting beaten to a pulp by an old man.)

 

-

 

When Derek came to Stiles’ front door the second time around, nothing was said.  Derek knocked on the door.  Stiles opened it seconds later, as if he’d been waiting for him.  Derek had grabbed his wrist on instinct, but had found no physical pain to leech away.  Stiles just pulled him inside, upstairs, into bed.

Derek let Stiles pull him into his bed and pull the covers up around them and wrap his body around him.  Derek was on the right and Stiles was on the left - just like the last time they did this.  Stiles’ head was tucked into the crook of his neck and his limbs were thrown over Derek’s body.

They didn’t fall asleep for a long time.  The last time Derek had slept, Stiles had appeared in his dream.  Had helped him.  Derek pressed his fingers onto Stiles’ waist.  Counted to five.  Breathed slowly, deeply, obviously in and out.  Willed Stiles to sleep.

Derek woke up to Stiles screaming.  Derek held him, tried convincing him he was awake.

“Stiles, Stiles, please.  Wake up.  This is real, wake up - “

-

“You know, it’s funny.”

Derek slowly blinks awake.  It’s just barely morning.  They’re in Stiles’ bed.  As always, Stiles seems to have gravitated to the middle of the mattress.  Consequently, Stiles had thrown a leg over his and an arm over his torso.  It wasn’t an unusual way to wake up.

“What’s funny, Stiles?” Derek grumbles.  It’s early.  The sun is still new in the sky, peeking in at them.

Stiles’ eyes flick to his.  They looked like honey.

“You’re one of the only people that make me feel safe.”  The honey looks like it's slowly dissolving into black tea.

“Why is that funny?”  Derek presses his face to Stiles’ chest to block out the intruding sunlight.  He could feel Stiles laugh and shift to accommodate him.

“I used to hate you.  You used to scare the shit out of me.  And threaten me.  But now I can hardly sleep without you.  I get scared sometimes when you’re not around.  But then you show up and I feel like I can breathe.  I feel like I’m real, with you.”

Derek feels like there’s a lump in his throat, like _he_ can’t breathe.  He leans back.  His heart is beating so hard that he’s sure Stiles can feel it.  But he can hear that Stiles’ heart is steady and calm.  Derek squeezes a hand on his waist, counts to five, his thumb glides back and forth a few times.

“I never would have hurt you.”  It’s all he can say.

Stiles gets it.

“I know.”

 

-

 

“Why didn’t you tell me I was pack?  And why didn’t I have to agree to it or something?” Stiles asks out of the blue one day during that summer.  

Here, in the light of day, they don’t discuss nightmares or possessions or ugly things.  Sunlight is reserved for friendship and pack and buoyancy.  When the sun can see them they pretend to be okay, prefer to teeter on the edge of balance.  During the day Stiles seemed, for the most part, like nothing had changed.  He seemed like the same reckless sixteen year old he’d met in the woods.  

But Derek tried not to look too hard because he could catalog every minute change that had occurred since that first day.  Drinking in the sight of him was for when the moon lit up his skin.  The interminable night was for touch and solace and drowning.

“I honestly thought you knew,” Derek shrugged.  They were lying outside in Stiles’ backyard.  They weren’t touching.  The sun could see them.

“Why?”  Stiles didn’t look at him.  Instead he fiddled with dandelions, picking them from the ground and plucking off the yellow petals into a pile on his chest.  The sun was watching.

“You and Scott are sort of a package deal.  He joined.  And I told you that I like you better than him.  So.”

“I wonder what it’s like to be inside your head, because that reasoning never occurred to me.  Also, it’s totally invalid.”

Derek frowned.  “It’s not invalid.  It’s an unsound argument, but it’s valid.”

At this, Stiles jumped up.  Derek’s heart filled with nostalgia as Stiles grinned and pointed down at him.  “You are a giant nerd!  I love it.  I want more giant nerds in my life.”

“I’m the only one you’ve got?”

Stiles laid back down next to him.

“Yeah.  You’re all I’ve got.”

 

-

 

They were in bed.  Stiles was lying against Derek as he typed away on his laptop.  Derek was nosing along the line of his neck, scenting him.  This didn’t escape Stiles’ attention, but it was a thing that tended to happen often.  It was comforting, Derek scenting him and then cupping a hand on the back of his neck to add his own mark.  It settled him.  He was reminded of when he asked if his scent changed afterwards, when he’d first confronted Derek about it.

“Hey,” Stiles said.  He tipped his head back onto Derek’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Derek answered.  His eyes made a coil in Stiles’ chest loosen.  He pushed his laptop off and turned around on Derek’s lap.

“What do I smell like?”

Derek didn’t answer right away.  He settled his hands on Stiles’ knees.  Opened his mouth, closed it.  Stiles waited for him to sort through his thoughts.

“It’s hard to describe scents,” Derek explained.  Stiles nodded.  “It’s like describing color to a blind person.”

“Try?” Stiles asked.  Derek nodded.

“You...you used to smell like dandelions.  And, this is dumb, but I can’t - “

“No, what else?”

“Like sunshine.”  Derek acts embarrassed, as if he hadn’t just said some of the most beautiful words Stiles has ever heard.

“That’s.  That’s, wow,” Stiles tries.  He wants to hide his face.  “What do I smell like now?”

Derek shifts uncomfortably.  Stiles just waits, knows Derek will tell him when he has the words sorted out.  

“You still smell like dandelions.  And the sunshine, it’s more like sunrise, now.  But now there’s a little...burnt sugar?  It’s almost an afterthought.”  Derek doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Oh.  Is it because of -”

“Yes.”

Suddenly all they can look at is one another.  All Stiles can feel is ten fingers pressing into his knees.  They are silent for a long time.  Stiles files away the information for later.

“What about when you scent-mark me?” Stiles asks, and grabs Derek’s hand to wrap it around the nape of his neck.  He feels like he’s having trouble breathing.  Derek pulls him closer, settles his other hand on the small of his back, noses along the line of his neck.  Stiles feels as if he’s suspended in time, like nothing exists outside of the two of them.  He’s floating, and for once it’s okay.  The silence feels like their own infinity.

“Maple.  A spring storm.  Brightness,” he answers like these are facts.  Like he’s spent hours coming up with the perfect words to match what he senses.

“How does it make you feel?”

“You feel like home.”

He swears his heart stutters.

“Derek,” Stiles grabs his face, suddenly frantic.  Can’t touch him enough.  “Derek.”  It’s all he can say.  He feels his heartbeat in his fingers that he’s pressing into Derek’s jaw and he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning anymore.  He feels like he’s overflowing, spilling all over Derek and crashing into him.  He wants to crash into him, all he wants is to be closer, touch more, feel more.  He moves slowly and it happens all at once, and Stiles wonders if he tastes like sunshine, too.


	6. say no to this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles cannot let go of their pasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This conversation was exceedingly hard for me to get right, so it took quite a while. I hope the extra lengthiness makes up for that.
> 
> Thanks to Lin-Manuel Miranda for writing Say No To This, the namesake of this chapter. Go listen to it because it's wonderful and way sexier than this chapter, though it's probably just as morally reprehensible.

Suddenly Stiles is on his back and the length of Derek’s body was pressing him into his bed.  And it was so good, he never wanted to stop kissing Derek.  Never thought it would be like this, so encompassing.  He never knew he wanted the world to fall away until being with Derek made it crumble around them.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands because he wants to be touching all of him, all at once.  Stiles settled for slipping his hands under his shirt and trying to pull him closer.  Then Derek’s lips aren’t on his anymore, they’re on his jaw, his neck.  He’s kissing the place that he scents and the thought gets Stiles squirming beneath him.  Too soon, Derek rolls off him.  He’s staring at the ceiling and not at Stiles.

Stiles sat up.

“Derek.”

He only grunted in response.

“Derek, look at me.”

He did.

“What’s wrong?”

Derek rolled over and buried his face in a pillow.  Stiles just waited, knew he didn’t need any prompting, just more time.  Stiles ran a soothing hand up and down his back while his own breath came in starts and stutters.

“I’ll hurt you,” Derek suddenly muffled into the pillow.  Stiles’ hand froze.

“What?  No you won’t.  That’s ridiculous.”

Derek sat up and stared at his hands.  The problem was, Derek didn't think he could vocalize where his fears were stemming from.  Every time he tried to say it he felt like he was choking on his past.  All he could do was repeat himself and hope that Stiles put the pieces together, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Stiles didn't get it, he got frustrated.

“You’re _not_ hurting me.  What’s wrong, Derek?  Just tell me,” Stiles snapped, but he didn't recoil.  He placed a hand on Derek’s arm, instead.

Derek opened his mouth to try but nothing came out.  And then Derek is frustrated, too, at himself because he’s so broken.  He’s so unfixable that he couldn't even tell this boy that he loves why he couldn't even speak.  Ridiculously, he felt tears prick in his eyes and all he could do was look at Stiles while they fell.

“ _Derek_ , please just tell me,” Stiles was almost begging now, scooting closer and taking both of his hands in his.

Derek shook his head, “I can’t.  I’m sorry, I want to.  I can’t.”

“Is it because of me?” Stiles asked.  Derek shook his head no.  “What can you tell me?”

Derek calmed himself down, tried to think.  What could he tell Stiles?  Wildly, his brain flies not to Kate, but to the bond he and Stiles had been building for two years.  He had never planned to tell him this early - but he had never planned to need Stiles this much.  He had never thought Stiles would need him just as much.  In comparison to the events of his past, the bond seemed like the easiest thing in the world to talk about.  Derek just allowed himself to let go, look up, and he started talking.

“We have a bond,” Derek said.

“I mean, yeah, I would say so,” Stiles cut in.

“Shut up,” Stiles rolled his eyes.  “The bond we have is special,” Derek’s heart was pounding, then the words were spilling out: “It’s a mate bond.”  Derek paused, looked for a reaction.  There was nothing.

“Those are real?” Is all Stiles said.  Derek nodded.  “So, like, what does that mean, exactly?  Because I mean obviously we have something special, like, we just witnessed that.  Which isn’t to say that the whole kissing thing is the only reason that we have something special - it’s not.  I like you because you’re you and you’re, you know.  But like, if what I feel is because it’s some mystical bond thing then I would have liked to know earlier because I don’t really have a great track record with magic taking over my actions and I kind of hate that and it scares me and you _know_ that, probably better than anybody, and -”

“It’s not fate, Stiles.  No magical forces are making you do anything.  I promise.  I would have told you if it was like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Stiles asked.  He was still sitting across from him on the bed with his hands holding Derek’s.  

Because Derek had thought almost ceaselessly about how to broach the subject since he first realized there was something to tell, words - for once in his life - fell effortlessly from his lips.  “It’s more that werewolves tend to have a more physical manifestation of love.  I don’t really know how it works on your end, because you’re human, but on mine it’s like a constant buzzing all around me until I’m with you.”  

Once Derek had started talking about this thing that he alone had experienced for two years, he couldn’t stop.  He told Stiles about how he needed to touch him sometimes to reassure himself that Stiles was okay and there.  That he started scent-marking him because Stiles in so many life or death situations made him anxious beyond belief.  Told him that he would always protect him, that he hated when he was sad.  It was an outpouring of words, of feelings, the sort of unflinching honesty that he had never before allowed himself to experience out of fear.  When there was a lull in Derek’s words, Stiles twitched and opened his mouth.

“How does it happen if it’s not magic or fated, or whatever?”

Derek didn't let himself be hurt that Stiles didn't react to the confessions pouring out of him.  He knew that Stiles’ brain needed to understand the mechanics of what he was talking about before he could begin to tackle anything else.

“It can happen for a lot of reasons.  Something jump starts it, and then the actions you take either build it up or break it down,” Derek answers, waits for Stiles to ask for specific details, for him to lead Derek to what he needs to know.

“What jump started it?”  Derek thinks he’s imagining things, but it seemed like Stiles was shifting slightly closer as he continued to speak.

“I don’t know for sure, but probably trusting each other without good reason.  For me, trusting you to help me when I was shot by that wolfsbane bullet.  For you...I’m not sure, but I have some ideas,” Derek thought of all the times Stiles had trusted him when he didn’t have to.

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, but didn’t speak.  He shook his head.  “I feel like there were so many times I was forced to trust you, but I don’t remember...what breaks it down?”

Derek shifted uncomfortably and didn’t meet Stiles eyes.  “A lot of things, but.  Betrayal is the biggest.”

“So, when you joined Peter?” Stiles asked, but he already knew.

“It almost disappeared, yeah,” Derek said.  Stiles squeezed his hands, and Derek looked up at him.  

“I betrayed everyone.  You’re not the only person who gets to have faults,” Stiles said.

“That wasn’t -”

“- my fault, I know.”  

They were silent for a few minutes, both focused on the movement of their hands on the others.  Eventually Stiles could no longer remain silent, Derek heard his heartbeat pick up before he spoke, “You mean everything to me.”  

Before he knew it, Stiles was in his lap and wrapping around him, burying his face in his shoulder.

“ _Stiles_ ,” was all Derek could say.  He held him as tight as he could.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Stiles pleaded.

Here, with Stiles surrounding him, with Stiles eyes unable to meet his, Derek opened his mouth to try again.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” his hands started shaking, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.  You’re too young and I can’t, I _know_ how it feels, because, I just.”  Derek was having trouble making his lungs work at first but now he was breathing too fast and he had to remind himself that he couldn’t grip Stiles that hard because he would hurt him and wasn’t _that_ ironic?

“Because of Kate,” Stiles said in a steely voice.  It wasn't a question.  He leaned back to look at him, “I get it, Derek, I understand.  Please come back to me.  Please look at me.”

Derek does.

“I understand.  You haven’t hurt me.”

“That’s not true,” Derek grimaced.

“Okay, you haven’t hurt me in a really long time.  I trust you.  You make me feel safe,” Stiles tried.  Derek didn’t respond, so he went on, “Just stay.  We can keep doing what we were doing before.  I just, I need you to be here.”

It was hard for Derek to say no to that, simply because he didn’t want to.  So he just nodded and allowed Stiles to lay them down and cover them up.  They settled into the same position they did every night, as if their world had not just made a dramatic shift.


	7. winding together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So this just kind of came out of nowhere. I sat down to try and write my French essay and I found this coming out instead. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Leave kudos and comments if you did, and thank you for your continuing support!

Nobody really understood the thing Stiles and Derek had.

For the most part they kept whatever it was they were doing and whatever it was they were to each other to themselves.  Derek slept over every night that summer and they mostly didn’t hang out during the day.  When they did, it was alone.  Sometimes lying in Stiles’ backyard and looking at the clouds, sometimes wandering around the woods when Derek wanted to just be away from all the noises of humanity.

Derek showed Stiles some of his favorite places.  Some were ones he had discovered recently, some were places he had spent his childhood discovering.  Once, he led him to a cave where all the Hale children had scratched their initials.  Some initials were done with claws, and others not.  Stiles’ heart hurt.  He had reached for Derek’s hand and just hadn’t let go until they got back to Stiles’ house.

Stiles had learned the power of actions over words when it came to Derek.  He would often just reach for his hand or his shoulder, or more rarely wrap an arm around his waist, instead of trying to verbally reassure him.  He thinks it may have started because that way Derek couldn’t argue with him about it, but it continued because it helped him - and that’s all Stiles really wanted, was to help him.

So Derek and Stiles didn’t go anywhere public or really talk about what they were doing to other people.  But the fact that basically all of their friends and acquaintances were werewolves made it very hard to hide the reality of how much time they were spending together.  (Stiles wondered if he smelled like maple and brightness and spring storms, what did Derek smell like?  And how did it change when Stiles’ scent was in the mix?)

The first person to mention it, unsurprisingly, was Peter.  It was the only night they’d spend at the loft, simply because of what Peter said when he found out Stiles was there.

Stiles was still upstairs in Derek’s bed, while Derek was puttering around the kitchen making coffee.  Peter had walked in unannounced, and clearly heard or smelled - probably both - Stiles.  He probably smelled their combined scents, as well, which is undoubtedly what tipped him off.  That, and Derek didn’t let anybody upstairs.  (Anybody but Stiles.)

It didn’t take werewolf hearing to hear how Peter’s voice rebounded through the loft.

“You know, Derek, the last time you were involved in an underage relationship, it didn’t end so well.  What makes you think this will be any different?”

Stiles heard something shatter, and Stiles wasn’t sure if it just fell or if Derek had squeezed a mug too hard.

“It’s not like that,” Derek growled.

“You’re delusional.  He’s upstairs in your bed, in a place you let no one else touch, waiting for you to bring him coffee,” Peter snarled.

“You don’t understand,” Derek said.

“No, _you_ don’t understand.  He is seventeen, Derek.  How old were you when you thought you knew what _you_ wanted?” Peter snapped, and Stiles is baffled because is Peter worried for _Stiles_?  What kind of crazy alternate universe had he woken up to?

“...seventeen.”

And that kills Stiles because he knows Derek would never do anything to hurt him.  He’d put his life on the line so many times to save him and their friends.  He was nothing even remotely close to what Kate had been.  And the fact that Peter even suggested it, knowing how Derek felt about it, pissed Stiles off.

“Right.”

It was silent for a few moments and Stiles could almost feel Derek shattering.

“It’s really not, he just...it’s not romantic.  We just, we couldn’t sleep.  We just help each other.  I’ve never…”

“Just because you say it’s not romantic doesn’t mean that it isn’t, Derek.  Just because you don’t kiss him doesn’t mean that you’re not the equivalent of a couple.  You rely on each other.  And you’re not building yourselves back up, you’re winding yourselves together.  You can’t survive apart - you know it’s true, don’t deny it.  It’s unhealthy and it’s going to screw you both up worse than you were before.”

“Leave.”  Derek’s voice was iron.

“Derek, listen to me -”

“ _Leave_ .   _You_ have no right to lecture me on what is unhealthy.  Get out.”

Evidently, Peter was satisfied, because Stiles heard the door slam seconds later.

Derek appeared at the top of the stairs a few moments later.

“You heard.”  It wasn’t a question.  Stiles nodded.

“Kinda hard not to.”

They were silent for a few minutes.  Stiles tried to keep his mouth shut so he didn’t make anything worse.  Eventually, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“He’s wrong.”

“Stiles -”

“No, he’s wrong.  He has no fucking clue what we have.  We spend plenty of time with other people.  You are not the only thing pushing me to recover,” but even as he asserted those facts he ran them through his head to make sure they were true.  He spent most of his days with Scott and Isaac, or Lydia, or Malia.  He’d even hung out with Kira a couple of times.  They helped make him feel normal again.  Derek helped to make him feel whole again.  Was that unhealthy?

“You’re the most important thing in my life.  We do act like a couple.  You’re only seventeen and I’m -”

Stiles couldn’t let him finish that sentence either, for fear of him calling it quits for his own good.  Peter’s words rang in his ears: _you can’t survive apart_.  Peter was right, he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have Derek.  

“I don’t know that you’re what I want, Derek.  I know that you’re what I _need_.”

Derek climbed into bed and buried himself in Stiles.  He almost didn’t catch what he said.

“I need you, too.”

-

Derek and Stiles are tramping back from the woods to his house.  Today, they walked hand in hand.  Derek had been moving too fast, far more familiar with the forest than Stiles, so he’d grabbed on and told him to _slow down_ and then just hadn’t let go.  It was like a Derek leash.

Scott was waiting on Stiles’ front porch.  Stiles dropped Derek’s hand quickly, wondering why Derek hadn’t noticed Scott was there earlier.

“Oh, hey Stiles and - Derek?  Um, what’ve you guys been up to?” Scott stumbles out, clearly trying to be polite but supremely confused as to why his best friend had been holding hands with Derek after clearly coming back from somewhere.  

“Hey, man.  Oh just, you know, Derek was showing me some stuff.  Some minorly suspicious stuff, nothing to worry about, it’s all taken care of.  What’s up, dude?” Stiles tried not to let his vague ramble stumble on for longer than it needed to.

“I, uh, was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with us.  You know, me, Kira, Isaac, Lydia, Malia,” Scott paused and turned to Derek, “You’re invited too, if you wanna come.”

Derek shoved his hands in his pockets but didn’t say anything.  Nobody really acknowledged it because it was a normal Derek answer.

But then nobody was speaking at all and it became increasingly clear that Scott wanted to talk to Stiles alone.  Derek cleared his throat.

“I’ll, uh, I’ve gotta grab some things.  I’ll just be.  In here,” Derek stumbled, and Stiles tried hard to keep himself from smiling.  Judging from the look on Scott’s face, he wasn’t succeeding.  Derek stepped around Scott and into Stiles’ house before Stiles realized how weird that must seem to anyone who isn’t him.

Scott looked at him in that way that said, _what the hell, dude?_  When Stiles didn’t make to say anything, Scott spoke up.

“So, what’s up with you and Derek?  Are you guys like…”  Scott was blushing furiously.

Stiles flailed a little - a lot - before he answered, “No, it’s not like that.  It’s just, we’ve been hanging out more, I guess?  He’s cool, I’m cool.  We’re cool.  Did you know he’s a giant nerd?  Like _huge_ , you have no idea.  He’s actually, honestly on my level.  It’s hilarious man, you gotta -”

Scott didn’t fall for the change in subject like he once would have.  Stiles cursed his maturing best friend that had clearly grown a tolerance for Stiles’ bullshit.

“You’re just hanging out?”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, “Yep.”

“And he has stuff in your room?  And your dad is okay with him being over here all the time?  And it smells like he sleeps in your bed a lot?  And you always smell like him?” Scott asked.  Stiles can’t deny any of that stuff, curse werewolves and their stupid noses.

“Do I really smell like him all the time?” Is what Stiles asks.  Scott rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Stiles.  It’s almost like your scent has been permanently altered.  His, too,” Scott said.  He paused, but then, “Do you like him?  Like -”

Stiles covered Scott’s mouth with his hand, “ _Please_ do not say: _like, like-like him?_ ”  Scott just blinks at him, makes no move to get out of Stiles’ grasp.  “ _Yes_ , okay?  I like-like him, you idiot.  I’m sure he can _hear us_ right now, too, so I’m _never going to live this down_.  Are you happy?”  Stiles uncovers Scott’s mouth for his reply.

“Are _you_?”  And Stiles wasn’t expecting that.  He was expecting Scott to make fun of him, ask him how he could possibly have feelings for Derek, of all people.  He was expecting for Scott to be angry, to not understand.  

“Yeah, Scott.  I am happy.”  And as he says those words he realizes that he is, for the first time in months realizes that his life is actually good right now, despite the lingering nightmares and trust issues.  He was happy.  Derek made him happy.

Scott pulled him into a hug.  “I’m happy for you, dude.  I don’t get it, but I support you.”

And god, Stiles didn’t know that he needed to hear that until he felt tears gather in his eyes.  

“Thank you.”

-

After the conversation with Scott, he tells him that he’ll catch up with him and the others later, that he has to talk to Derek.  Scott wiggled his eyebrows, effectively lightening the mood, and Stiles groaned.

“Oh god, I’m gonna regret ever making fun of you’re hopeless romanticism, aren’t I?”

Scott just laughed and clapped him on the back, and then Stiles was walking up to his room where he assumed Derek had heard the whole conversation.

Stiles opened the door to see Derek grinning, and that was an incredible sight.

“Please don’t say it,” Stiles begged.

“You _like-like_ me,” Derek teased.

“Oh god, I wish I had said literally anything but that.”

“Like what?  That you’ve got a big, gay crush on me?” Derek teased again.  Stiles, even as embarrassed as he was, was floating because he had never seen Derek this happy and carefree.  Stiles couldn’t help but grin with he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Nothing that you didn’t know already, Sourwolf,” Stiles tried to pout.  Failed spectacularly.

Derek laughed and strode over to gather Stiles up in his arms.  He picked him up, spun him around while Stiles laughed and wondered how this was his life, now.  When Derek set him down, he just held him tighter while Derek nuzzled his neck, breathing him in.

“I more than like you, you know,” Stiles said, heart beating so hard he could feel it in his toes.

Derek pulled back, looked in his eyes, left a lingering kiss on his cheek.  “I more than like you, too.”

Stiles’ felt like he was floating on pure happiness.  He felt like he was overflowing again, and he had nowhere for it to go.  So he kissed Derek’s nose, his cheek, his chin.  Derek responded by kissing Stiles’ forehead, his jaw, his ear, and pulled him back in for a bone-crushing, soul-searing hug.

“Come to dinner, with us.  It’ll be fun to hang out with everyone, and they won’t say anything.  Except maybe Malia.  But Scott’ll probably give them a heads up because he’s the absolute worst gossip,” Stiles asked over Derek’s shoulder, trying to convince him.

“Okay,” Derek agreed, no convincing necessary.  Stiles pushed off of him and squinted his eyes comically.

“Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?”

“Shut up, do you want me to come or not?”

So they went.  Together.  Maybe not together-together, Stiles wasn’t sure exactly where they stood on that subject, but they showed up smelling like each other and probably like mushy things like love and happiness, if Malia’s face was anything to go by.  And Scott had clearly already told Kira and Isaac, and Kira had told Malia, and - well, if Stiles had to hazard a guess, Lydia had probably already known because she was _Lydia_.  

Kira looked at them like they were hope embodied, and once Stiles’ brain had gotten a hold of that notion, he couldn’t let it go.  Because that’s honestly what they were to each other, wasn’t it?  That was the truth.  They made each other hopeful, that’s what had started this all in the first place.  They had needed something to drag them out of the hell they were experiencing and they got each other.  They didn’t just get better, they got happy.


	8. grilled cheese triangles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets all his ducks in a row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious apologies for the long break between chapters. Writing is hard, you know?
> 
> I hope you enjoy this ridiculous mess of fluff, and thank you all so much for waiting on me.

The longer Derek and Stiles live in their state of limbo - knowing how they both feel but not fully acting upon it - the more Stiles understands that affection takes many forms, not just kissing and touching.  He understands that it’s not really a state of limbo, what they’re doing is a relationship.  A real relationship.  With Derek Hale.  Their insane lives had led them here.

It may have started out as comfort, but the truth is that there has always been something there between them.  There has always been attraction, and then there was trust, followed by comfort and need and friendship.  Now it was love and more and more often it was desire.  Of all the things on the list, desire was the least acted upon.

Which, of course, was for a good reason.  Multiple, actually.  Stiles was seventeen.  Derek was an abuse victim.  Stiles’ father was the sheriff.  It wasn’t exactly a recipe for success.  

But just because they didn’t act on their desire didn’t mean that they had to keep hanging out in limbo.  With every passing day Stiles felt closer to Derek.  He thought of what Peter had said, about winding themselves together.  

About how just because you say you aren’t in a relationship doesn’t mean you aren’t.  

Stiles goes over to the loft on a Wednesday afternoon.  It’s the first time he’s been there since the morning Peter had walked in on them.  Derek is opening the door before Stiles even knocks because he knows the sound of the Jeep by heart.

“Hi,” is all he says before he pulls him into a hug.  Derek leads him into his kitchen, where Derek is making a grilled cheese.  “Want one?”  Stiles nods, because his heart is doing funny things and if he opens his mouth he isn’t sure that his words won’t be one-hundred percent embarrassing.  Stiles takes a seat at one of the stools and watches as Derek cooks for him.

Neither of them say anything.  Stiles keeps trying to gather his thoughts and try to put words in the right order in his head but they’re just bouncing around haphazardly and he can’t form any kind of coherent sentence.  Eventually Derek sits down next to him with two plates of grilled cheese.  He’s cut them both in half into triangles.  Stiles glances to Derek’s eyes.

“Hi,” is all Stiles manages.  His skin is buzzing and verbalizing anything at all feels like a victory.

Derek smiles and cups his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, leans over to kiss his shoulder.  As his hand is sliding away, Stiles catches it and holds on.

“I’m in love with you.”

Stiles can feel Derek’s pulse pick up, “Stiles.”

“Derek.”

They’re both looking at their hands wrapping around each other and then, “I’m in love with you, too.”

“I thought so,” Stiles says.

“Hey!”

“What?  I’m just saying, I had a strong hunch.”

“Oh, a hunch was it?”  And then Derek’s dimples are out and all Stiles wants to do is kiss him.

“Also, we’re dating.”

“Stiles -”

“No, I’m not asking.  I’m just making an observation.  We’re together, in a relationship.  That’s what this is.  And I know I’m too young, and I know that you’re scared to hurt me.  But, we’re just gonna have to deal because we’re already doing it, you know?  And we don’t have to change anything, or do anything that we don’t want to do.  When I turn eighteen we can have a conversation about other stuff but we won’t do anything unless we’re both ready and we both want to,” Stiles rushes through his little speech, which was entirely unpracticed because his mind has been a jumbled mess ever since he realized that he and Derek were in a relationship.  Of course they started dating by accident, of course that’s how they ended up getting together.  What other dumb way to satisfy the insanity of their lives?

Derek nodded along to Stiles’ speech, still holding his hand.  A minute passed before Derek replied.

“You’re right.  But eighteen is not a deadline, that’s...not good.  I’m not just gonna wait around until you turn eighteen and then immediately jump your bones.  That’s - it’s just as bad,” Derek struggled through, but he got it all out.  That was happening a lot more lately, the further they got into this thing, the easier it was for Derek to talk about it.

“Yeah, yeah.  Like I said, when we’re  _ both _ ready.  You and me,” Stiles paused, tried to consider but his mouth was already moving, “The thing is, can I kiss you?  I really, really want to.”

Derek does actually stop to consider.  Remembers the night in Stiles’ room, pressing him into his bed and tasting him finally,  _ finally _ .  Remembers how dirty he’d felt afterward, how guilty.  How he didn’t want to ruin someone like Kate had ruined him.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Derek whispers.  He waits for Stiles to get mad.  Of course he doesn’t, he just curls a hand around his neck and pulls him close.

“It’s okay.  I get it.”

 

-

 

Stiles left the loft an hour later, after finishing his grilled cheese and then dragging Derek to the couch so he could force-cuddle him.  (Not much force was necessary, to be fair.)

Instead of driving back to his house, he drove to Scott’s.  He couldn’t help but be the teenage cliche of immediately leaving a date only to go spill everything to your best friend.  He needed someone to know, and Scott was exactly the right person to tell. 

He didn’t bother knocking, just let himself into the house.  If Scott was home then he’d already know he was here.  Sure enough, when Stiles walked into his room Scott didn’t even glance up from his computer screen.

“Hey, what’s up?”  Stiles flops down on Scott’s bed and heaves a huge, lovesick sigh.  Scott does look up at this.  “Dude?”

“I’m dating Derek.  Actually, legitimately in a relationship with Derek Hale.”

“Seriously?  That’s awesome!”  Stiles nods because it  _ is _ awesome.  “I thought you were together before but like, that’s really great, man.”

“Kinda.  But now it’s  _ official _ .  I just went over and he was making grilled cheese and he made one for me and he cut it into triangles and I lost my fucking shit.  I swear to god I told him I was in love with him on the spot.”  Stiles’ heart is racing because it’s out there now, it’s not just him and Derek who know their secret.  

Scott just giggles, “You told him you loved him because he cut your grilled cheese the right way?”

“No!  Well, technically yes.  But also no.  Because of lots of things,” Stiles defends.  

“I know, I know, I’m just messing with you.  That’s really great Stiles, I’m happy for you.”  For a minute, they just bask in Stiles’ happiness.  Then, “Does your dad know?”

“Kind of?  I mean, he doesn’t not know.  You know?” Stiles answers, and Scott just gives him a Look that says  _ no Stiles, please use actual sentences _ .  “I mean, he knows that Derek has been staying over a lot.  Which we had a talk about and he was reluctantly okay with because it was helping me get better.  So, like.  It shouldn’t be that surprising?”

“Derek is so getting threatened by the sheriff, isn’t he?” Scott replies.

“Yup.  As soon as I tell him.”

 

-

 

Stiles doesn’t wait, when he comes home and find his dad in the kitchen, he just does it.  No sense prolonging the inevitable, right?

When he tells his dad, all he says at first is, “I should’ve known.”

(Stiles can’t disagree.)

Stiles heads off the lecture he knows he’s about to get, and tells him the whole story.  How they never meant for this to happen, how it wasn’t intentional on anybody’s part.  How they had just sort of stumbled into it.  He told him about Kate, made him swear that he would never use it against Derek or tell another soul.  He told him that he was in love with him.

After all of it, Stiles asks, “So?”

His dad was silent for a couple of minutes.  Then, after some audible grumbling, he says, “I don’t like it.  He’s far too old for you, he’s right about that.  But you’d do it anyway, I know that.”

“So…?” Stiles taps his fingers on the counter impatiently.

“So, I won’t stop you.  Not that I could, the amount of trouble you’ve managed to get yourself into in the past shows that much.”

“Thank you!”  Stiles throws his arms around his father, “Seriously Dad.  Thanks.”

“I just want you to be happy again.”  

Stiles eyes prick a little at that, but, “I am.  I’m happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are inspirational.


	9. a moment of peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds Stiles after everything goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this series was always mean to be a set of vignettes, not a sequential set of chapters. I accidentally fell into that and I didn't know where to go from there. 
> 
> This chapter is another vignette, a few weeks after Allison dies.

Once, Derek found Stiles sitting on the beach in the rain.  His jeep had been abandoned a few hundred yards away around the bend of the coast.  He didn’t have any shoes, but he was wearing a hoodie.  It was sticking to him like a second skin, and it looked like he hadn’t moved for hours.  It had been raining for hours.

If Stiles heard him approach, he didn’t show it, though Derek made sure to make a little noise for him.  He sat down next to him, and still, Stiles didn’t move.  Minutes stretched out and they watched the waves crashing up closer and closer to their spot.

“We should move,” Stiles says.  Still, he sits.  Derek looks away from the waves and to Stiles.  Neither of them moves.

“Tide is coming in,” Derek comments.  He isn’t expecting it when Stiles turns his head to look back at him.  Their eyes meet, but the moment feels empty.  All around them, between them, it’s empty.

“I wouldn’t mind being washed out to sea,” he says, and the corner of his mouth quirks up.  They look at each other.  Derek nods.

“Me neither.”

They are silent again for a time.  This place would feel timeless if it were not for the water inching towards them, lapping at their toes.  Derek imagines Stiles is freezing, even though it's May - it’s raining and the wind coming in off the ocean is blowing hard.  But he is perfectly still, not shivering, his hair so plastered to his forehead that it’s not blowing in the wind.  Derek waits.

“I would mind you being washed out to sea,” Stiles says.  It feels like that stomach-lurching moment when your foot comes down hard and throws you off balance when you were sure there was one last step to take.  “You don’t deserve it.”

“Neither do you,” Derek forces out past his heart in his throat.

They are sitting in shallow water when Derek reaches out to take Stiles’ hand and Stiles lets him.

“If I move, I don’t know what will happen.  This is the most okay I’ve felt since it happened, and I can’t move.”  Stiles looks at him again.  “I don’t know how to move, Derek, and I’ve been trying but I can’t move. If I go I’ll, I just, I don’t - “

“Stop,” Derek cuts him off.  “It’s okay.  We can stay.  You don’t have to move.  I won’t let you float off, okay?  You know I won’t.”

He hears the tears in Stiles' voice when he says, “I know.”

So they stay, and Derek keeps a hold of Stiles’ hand.  The water fills the sand around them, and they stay so long that they’re buoyed up from their place on the beach.  Suddenly, it stops raining.  All at once, the waves settle and they are standing waist deep in calm water.  Stiles is crying.  Derek tightens his hold on his hand and Stiles tips his face up toward the sky as the sun peeks out from the behind the cloud bank.

Derek is standing in the ocean with a broken boy and he has never seen anything as beautiful as that - a moment of peace.

He lowers his head back to meet Derek’s eyes.  

“We can go.”


	10. if you need anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I would like to note that I've taken a lot of liberties with the timeline in this story. I haven't explicitly mentioned anything about that, but it's implied that S1 and S2 occur in the space of an academic year. Over the following summer break is the first time that Derek goes over to Stiles' (Chapter 3). S3A and S3B occur during the course of the following academic year, ending in late April/early May. I went back and changed the month of the beach occurrence from November to May, just a heads up.
> 
> With that out of the way, this chapter describes what Stiles meant when he told Scott that his dad didn't not know about he and Derek. Enjoy!

“Stop the car,” Stiles says out of the blue.  They’re in a town half an hour from Beacon Hills and they happened to be passing a suburban neighborhood.  “Pull in here and stop the car,” Stiles says again.

Derek looks at him with a raised eyebrow but doesn’t question it, pulls into the neighborhood like Stiles asked.  He drives in a ways and parks on the side of the wide, beige street.  Stiles opens the door and strips off the socks Derek had bought and forced him to wear, leaving them abandoned on his seat as he hops out of the Jeep.  He keeps everything else on, his now dry clothes and Derek’s leather jacket.  Stiles doesn’t explain before he slams the door shut and take a few steps to the sidewalk.

By the time Derek has rounded the Jeep to where Stiles is, he’s sat on the pavement out of the shadow of the car, arms wrapped around his knees and his feet laying flat on the ground.  He looks up at Derek.

“Sorry, my feet were cold,” is all he says.

Derek tried not to grumble as he sat down next to him, “I bought you socks.  Fuzzy socks.”

“They weren’t working.”

“So you figured maybe a suburban sidewalk would?”

Stiles shrugged, “I like the feeling of sun on my skin, and the pavement heats up when it’s bright outside.”

 

-

 

When they finally did pull into the Stilinski driveway, the Sheriff was there waiting for them.  He pulled his son into a bone-crushing hug while Stiles apologized over and over again.

When he finally let go, Derek was entirely unprepared for being pulled into a bone-crushing hug of his own by the Sheriff.  Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged, but his body responded on instinct how one was expected to, so he found himself with his arms wrapped around a grateful father and wondering how they’d all gotten here.

 

-

 

It wasn’t long after the beach incident that Derek had shown up at the Stilinski’s front door again.  

That summer drifted by in a haze of newfound affection.  Lingering shadows from the months before plagued them all, and there must have been a dozen times that the three of them had found themselves together in the early hours of the morning, trying to push past the events of their past.  Most often, it was Stiles who had woken up screaming from a nightmare or who was having a panic attack.  A few times it was John.  He didn’t have panic attacks, but there were a few nights that he would wake up breathless, and so he would come into his son’s room and sit.  Just needing to know that his son was alive, was himself.  

The first time it happened Derek had woken hearing someone entering the room and had unthinkingly drawn Stiles’ sleeping form under him, letting his eyes flash blue - until he realized who it was.  

“Didn’t mean to spook you, just need to see my son,” John whispered.  Derek felt somewhat ridiculous at his overreaction and loosened his grip on Stiles.  The boy just kept sleeping, could probably sleep through anything.  The thought pulled the tiniest smile to his lips even as he turned to speak to his father.

“Do you want me to wake him up?” Derek asked quietly.

John shook his head, “No, he needs to sleep.  I’ll see him in the morning.”

He disappeared from the doorway and Derek settled back in.  In the morning Derek was surprised to find John awake and in the kitchen.  Derek always used the front door nowadays, but John was usually at work or still asleep by the time he left.

“Coffee?” he asked, and Derek shook his head.  “He’s up?”  Derek nodded.  Stiles was always up before he left, he never wanted him to wake up to an empty bed and wonder when he’d gone.  And, he admitted to himself, there wasn’t a lot of things better than waking up with him.

“I’m gonna go,” is all that Derek said.

John opened up the newspaper on the counter and replied, “See you later.”

It wasn’t lost on Derek that the Sheriff’s statement was as casual as it was accurate.  It felt dumb to feel so wonderstruck at the small phrase, but it made it feel as though Derek somehow fit in here, in this house with these people.  He hadn’t felt anything like it in ages.

That feeling was only confirmed one night when it was Derek who had woken up from a nightmare.  It was mid-June, and Derek was sat straight up in Stiles’ bed, gasping for air.  Flashes of being chained up, of electrocution, of Kate’s tongue on his stomach.  Him, completely unable to stop her.  His mind whispered _unwilling, unwilling, unwilling_.

Derek felt movement around him but couldn’t focus on whatever it was that Stiles was saying to him.  Suddenly John appeared in front of him with a trashcan and it was only then that Derek realized he was going to be sick.

Afterward, a spare toothbrush was found for him.  John asked him if he needed anything else and Derek could only shake his head, unable to comprehend the kind of care he was receiving from someone who was not Stiles.  

“Just let me know if you do, alright?  I’m going back to bed but if you two need anything - “ he was cut off by Stiles, who was pushing him out the door.

“Yes Dad, thank you.  Go get some sleep, we’ll be fine.  Thanks for the puke bucket, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

They ended up in the living room watching Star Wars with a truly impressive spread of snacks until Derek fell asleep on Stiles’ shoulder near dawn.  John found them like that in the morning, or so Stiles reported.  Derek didn’t wake up until noon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my damn day!


	11. mixed up in you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought you'd heard the last of me.
> 
> Sorry. I got distracted with a different fic this summer. (It's completed! Go check her out if you enjoy angsty rpf!!! Or Jonathan Groff! Or Lin-Manuel Miranda!)
> 
> Anyway. Here's this, I hope you like it.

Stiles showed up at the loft the Saturday night after his first week back at school.  His scent hadn’t changed, but Derek immediately sensed that something was off.  There was no extra energy, no hyperactivity.  When they hugged it was usual for them to linger, but this time Stiles let out a big sigh and sniffed his neck long and hard and audibly.

“What mixes with dandelions to make maple syrup?” he asked, his voice muffled by the way he had squished his face into Derek’s neck.  “Or is it the sunrise that gets mixed up in you?”

Derek pulled back and tipped Stiles’ face up to see that his eyes were dilated.  Stiles grinned and let his tongue peek out from between his teeth.

“Are you high?” 

“A little.”  Stiles giggled when Derek arched a brow, “A lot.”

“You drove here high?” Derek pulled him to the couch and sat him down.

“No, it just hit me when I was walking up here,” Stiles says and his heartbeat never faltered.  Derek sighed.

“Still, I would have come over.  You didn’t have to drive over here.”  

“I wanted to be here.  I like being in your space.”  As if illustrating his point, Stiles laid his head down in Derek’s lap.  Derek couldn’t help but smile.

“I like you being here, too.”  Derek carded a hand through Stiles’ hair.  “Do you want to make food?”

Stiles rolled onto his back and grinned up at him unreservedly.  “I want to watch you make me food.  Does that count?”

Derek hums, “Yeah, that counts.  Any requests?”

“Do you have ranch?”  Derek nodded.  “Do you have pizza?”

“No, but I could make one.”

“Like, from scratch?”

“Yeah. I have all the stuff for it.”

Stiles stood up from the couch and grabbed Derek’s hand.  He allowed him to pull him up and over to the kitchen.  Stiles hopped up to sit on the counter and toed his shoes off, leaving his bare feet hanging and bumping a lazy, erratic rhythm against the cabinets below.  

Before Derek got started he filled a glass of water for Stiles and lined up the vegetables he had for his perusal.  Stiles picked a red pepper, artichokes, and black olives and Derek got started on the dough.

As he started kneading the dough Stiles pokes him in the arm with a toe, “When did you learn how to make pizza?”

“In New York,” Derek replied.  “I had a lot of time to fill once we made it there.”

“Why did you go to New York?” Stiles asked.  Derek focused on the movement of the muscles in his arms as he kneaded the pizza dough.  Talking with Stiles felt safe, but this topic still hurt.  It would always hurt.

“It would have been dangerous to stay on the west coast.  Two kids without a pack, we were vulnerable.  We were looking for a city on the east coast to disappear in, and we ended up in New York.”  Derek shrugged.  “New York is easy to lose yourself in.”

“I’ve never been anywhere but the west coast.  I guess I’ve been to Mexico, but I’d like to visit a city like that, that you can just disappear in.”

“It’s lonely,” Derek muttered.

Stiles sighed, “Yeah.  It would be nice to have a break, though.  From everything.”  Derek just hummed in agreement.  He understood.

 

-

 

When the pizza was done they moved back to the couch and turned on  _ Planet Earth _ .  Stiles curled up next to him and Derek covered them with a blanket and wrapped an arm around him.  Stiles let out an exaggerated moan when he took his first bite of the pizza, and Derek laughed.

Derek was struck by how at home he felt in that moment.  His loft was warm and it smelled like the pizza he made for this boy that he loved.  He never expected a place to feel like home again after the fire, but all it took was Stiles worming his way into his life.

“I love you,” he whispered.  Stiles hummed and kissed his neck three times in quick succession before laying his head back on his shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

-

 

It was after that night that Derek realized how much of their relationship is dependent on taking care of each other.  Derek liked to feel useful, and he found that he was good at caring for Stiles.  He made sure he slept, soothed him from his nightmares, and he cooked for him whenever could.  He found himself with reasons other than loneliness and keeping his mind busy to learn new recipes.  

Stiles was back in school now, his senior year, so his way of taking care of Derek had changed.  During the summer he had spent whole days accompanying Derek as he wandered in the woods, on those days when his senses felt overwhelmed from living in the center of town.  Now, Stiles came over and interrupted the spirals he would fall into - whether he was attempting to push his body to its limits with endless push-ups or trying to retreat from the world by not leaving his bed for days.  Stiles jokingly kept track of how many days it had been since a spiral incident had occurred.  By the end of October, the number was up to forty-one.

As summer turned to fall their lives became more intertwined.  The Stilinskis had become touchstones for him that summer, and as the months marched on he found himself thinking of them as something more permanent.  Stiles’ senior year was one that Derek would always look back on and in his head call  _ becoming _ .  

John and Derek went to Stiles’ lacrosse games and sat on the bleachers together.  Derek started mowing their lawn every few weeks when he discovered that both of the Stilinskis hated doing it.  He liked being useful, he liked having a place.  For the first time in a long time, Derek wasn’t afraid to carve out his place in the world.  

And as Derek carved out his piece, Stiles did the same.  He showed up at the loft anytime he could, so it now perpetually smelled of their mixed scents.  Often, he requested food and then took his seat on the counter to watch Derek cook.  In October he started bringing around college applications and confided in him that he was only applying to those that were close by because he couldn’t stand to be away from his father after the year they’d had.  Stiles tugged him along to a few parties, a lot of movie nights and diner brunches.  Derek tugged Stiles along to his favorite trails around Beacon Hills and the preserve.

It was idyllic.  Sometimes, in the moments between all the happiness, Derek wondered when the other shoe would drop.

  
  



End file.
